


Best Served Cold

by Danruu



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Death, M/M, Not Thedas, Sex, Very mild hint at attempted sexual assault, Violence, Zombies, gore mention, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 16:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danruu/pseuds/Danruu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samson and Cullen (and cameos of other characters) in 8 scenarios of the zombie apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Served Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know.
> 
> I watched The Walking Dead. Got sad. Wrote this beast over 24 hours. Fear me. 
> 
> Massive love to rynnfox (is that you on here? idk) for being an awesome Samson/Cullen enabler!

**I.**

 

“You let it get too close, that kind of stupidity gets you bitten.”

 

Cullen sighed angrily, kicking a rock harder than he intended, watching it skitter away along the abandoned road. “Yeah yeah I know, you’re the professional zombie killer here, I should just shut up and follow suit.”

 

“That’s not a bad idea really.” Samson smirked. “You need to get better at the bigger groups; they won’t always just be one at a time in a neat line for you. And since you wasted all your bullets,” Cullen made a huffing sound at the reminder. “We’ve got to make do with what we’ve got.”

 

“Of all the people left in the world, I’m stuck with you.” Cullen muttered to himself, gripping the handle of his machete tighter as he feels that old familiar anger coil in his gut. Samson. Of course it was him, and his patronising smile and irritating glances. He was always looking now, always so aware. Attentive even. Why hadn’t he been like that _before_ the world ended?

 

“That was another life. You should really get over it.” Samson remarked drily, kicking the same stone Cullen did as they finally caught up to it. “Like it or not, we need each other. Or rather _you_ need _me_.”

 

“You need me just as much Sammy.” Cullen snapped back. “You’d have given yourself dysentery within the first week if it wasn’t for me, remember?”

 

Samson laughed, but stopped suddenly, raising his hand in that infuriating yet very helpful way he did when something was coming. Despite all their bickering, they really were dependant on each other, and as the shambling figures appeared from the woods, Cullen was grateful to have Samson watching out for him. Their skills complimented each other, and they both knew that neither would have made it anywhere without the other. And having someone they knew with them... it was a small piece of comfort.

 

Stepping over the now truly-dead corpses, Cullen gave Samson a small, genuine smile. “How was that?”

 

Samson smiled back. “Better.”

 

**II.**  

 

“Jesus Christ what did you do?” Samson appeared in his face and Cullen held onto him, more stunned than hurt as he caught his breath. They somehow climbed the ladder into the hayloft they were holed up in, and Cullen pulled his hand away from his face, blood pouring from a deep cut above his lip. Samson was already frowning at him, on edge.

 

“It’s not a scratch, not from them.” Cullen said quickly, though Samson only relaxed a fraction, waiting for an explanation. “I got caught in the farmhouse, three of them, I got my knife... stuck. I had to break a window to get away. Cut my face.” He shrugged. “I’m alright.”

 

Samson made a noise that Cullen assumed was frustration, though it sounded more like concern as a strong hand held his chin and he pulled a bit of cloth from his pocket to dab at the wound. Cullen avoided looking into his eyes; this was a surprisingly intimate gesture from the man he’d argued with just half an hour ago. Which was when he stormed up to the farmhouse alone as the sun started going down. That was dumb. Samson didn’t need to say it.

 

“’M sorry.” Cullen mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed suddenly, and grateful for the gathering gloom of the barn.

 

“You won’t do it again.” Samson said matter-of-factly. Cullen looked up sharply, fully intending to argue that point, but then the words died as their eyes met. They were so close, Samson’s hand holding his face, the other cleaning the blood from his split lip.

 

Cullen leaned forward a little, but the Samson’s hand fell away, leaving him shivering slightly at the loss of warmth against his jaw. “It’ll scar, but it’s not that bad.” Samson stated, moving over to rummage through Cullen’s backpack as if he hadn’t even noticed that moment that had flickered between them both.

 

“Yeah...” Cullen replied as he stared at his lap, cheeks red as he tried not to get angry again. How long now had this been simmering between them? He’d lost track of days after the first week, but he knew how it felt. And it felt too long. It had felt too long before this had even begun. 

 

With a barely-suppressed sigh, Cullen lay down in their make-shift bed of hay and blankets, trying not to tense too much as the other man slotted in behind him, one arm resting loosely on his waist. It certainly didn’t help his already confused feelings, but they needed it after days like today. A little bit of human contact. Cullen could take that for now. 

 

**III.**

 

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” The woman opposite them was tall, tanned, hair cropped short save a rat-tail braid. Though Cullen was more focused on the gun in her hand than what she looked like, given it was pointed right at him.

 

“We aren’t who you think we are.” Samson said, strangely calm for someone with two guns pointing at him, the two other women in the trio looking suspiciously at him as the only other person holding a gun, Cullen’s lying a little further away.

 

“How do we know that?” The woman glared, though one of the others, younger with her long black hair tied in a high ponytail, wavered a little.

 

“Well for one we have no idea who you’re talking about.” Cullen tried to cover up how nervous he was having a gun pointed at him the best he could by sounding flippant. The third woman, a redhead, narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“It’s true Cassandra, they don’t seem like Promisers.” She said, her own accent standing out. Cullen wanted to make a joke about this being the foreign exchange programme, but thought better of it given all three of them were armed.

 

Samson lowered his gun first, finally seeming to realise that it was pretty pointless to be holding it up given they were outnumbered anyway. “It’s just the two of us. We’re not in any group. We haven’t even seen any other survivors until you three.”

 

The first woman paused for a moment, before she finally lowered her gun. “I believe you.” She said, though a little begrudgingly. “And you should consider yourself lucky. The Promisers are a group of savages who have been attacking groups of survivors for weeks now. There were a lot more of us when this began. They’ve taken more than the dead.”

 

Cullen glanced around, suddenly more than a little on edge. Samson seemed to notice, and gave him a strangely comforting look.

 

“Where are you heading?” The French woman asked, moving to pick up the supplies that had been scattered by their confrontation, passing Cullen back his gun warily.

 

“Nowhere. We were looking for somewhere new to hole up. Our last place got swarmed.” Samson replied, and Cullen tried not to remember that night too closely. He’d never been so sure he was going to die as that night, and given he spent a lot of time thinking he might die lately that was saying something.

 

“You should come with us!” The ponytailed girl piped up, another accent. Italian? Spanish? Cullen didn’t know, he was shit with accents.

 

“Nah.” Samson shook his head. “Bigger groups attract more attention. We’re better off on our own.”

 

Cassandra snorted, turning to Cullen. “You should tell your boyfriend that he should learn to accept help when it’s offered to him.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Cullen shot back automatically, almost drawing a smile from Cassandra’s face.  He felt his cheeks go pink, and he quickly changed the subject. “Where are you heading?”

 

“South. There’s apparently a safe zone there. Walls. Pretty well set up. One of our group told us about it. Before the Promisers got him.”

 

Samson snorted. “Bullshit. Nowhere is safe. Not from the dead, and especially not from people. You might as well give up now.”

 

Cassandra ignored him, turning to the other women as they finished packing up their bags. “We’ve hung around too long. We have to be moving if we want to be out of this area by dark.” They nodded, though Josie looked concerned to be leaving Cullen and Samson behind, and she whispered something into the redhead’s ear, who sighed.

 

 She approached Cullen. “I’ll give you a map. To where we’re heading. If you change your mind, it’s about a four day trip if you can find a car, longer if you don’t.”

 

“Thanks.” Cullen smiled. He had to admit, he wanted to go with them. They were organised, they had a plan. It seemed more than what he and Samson were doing. Just drifting and hoping for the best. Maybe he’d be able to convince him.

 

“Good luck.” Cassandra shouldered her bag and began to walk, the others following. She didn’t look back. Cullen wondered idly how many times she’d done that before in the short time since the world ended.

 

“We should have gone with them.” He said quietly to Samson, who pointedly headed off in the opposite direction.

 

“We don’t need them.” Samson snapped back. “We’re doing just fine on our own.”

 

**IV.**

 

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Fuck...” Cullen ducked behind a fence, eyes wild with panic. “They shot him. They fucking shot him.”

 

“Calm down and come on.” Samson hissed, pulling him up by one arm though staying low, running back to the house they’d been in for the last few nights. Apparently it wasn’t as safe here as they’d hoped. The damned Promisers had vehicles, it didn’t seem like anywhere was safe.

 

They’d run into Keran a couple of days ago, scared and alone after his sister had been attacked by one of the dead. Cullen had begged Samson to let Keran stay with them, unable to handle the thought of leaving him out here to die, and Samson had eventually agreed.

 

Keran was nice, but pretty useless when it came to defending himself. He’d been lucky enough to have been in a gated community when the world went to shit, but unlucky enough to still be there when someone got infected and the whole place fell apart. Samson considered him dead weight, and pretty much refused to speak to him or Cullen. Cullen had tried not be bothered by it.

 

“So how long have you been together?” Keran had innocently asked that morning as they boiled water while Samson slept for a bit longer.

 

“Since this started.” Cullen replied, not really paying attention as he watched the little flame from the gas cooker they’d been lucky enough to salvage.

 

Keran looked surprised. “Really? Seems like a funny time to hook up...”

 

“What?” Realisation dawned on Cullen and he’d spluttered as he caught his finger against the boiling pot. “Ow fuck. And no! No no, not like that! We’re not... he’s not my boyfriend or anything. I thought you meant, y’know, travelling.”

 

“Oh. It’s just you seem... really close.” Keran had shrugged, and Cullen’s face had burned as much as his finger.

 

Cullen didn’t feel close to Samson right now. Not as they climbed back into the attic and sat there right next to each other, catching their breath. He felt the anger bubble up inside of him as the adrenaline wore off. “We left him there... _You_ left him there.” Samson didn’t react as he slowly took off his bag and guns. That seemed worse somehow. “He was still alive. He needed help. And you left him.”

 

“Yeah I left him.” Samson suddenly growled. “I left him because they’d shot him in the leg. What were we supposed to do? Carry him all the way back here? Play nurse because he couldn’t walk? What then?” He kicked out a dusty trunk in frustration. “I did what I had to. I made a choice, it was him or you.”

 

Cullen started a little. The attack had happened so fast. He had been ahead of them, when he heard the shots he started to run back, but Samson had run straight into him and pushed him down behind a fence. He’d saved his life and the more Cullen thought about it the more he knew it, but it didn’t make it any better. Samson had saved his life by letting a kid like Keran die.

 

Samson just shrugged. “I did what I had to.” He repeated. As if it were that simple.

 

“Why me?”

 

Samson’s hand was on his face, turning his head to face him. Cullen didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but the sudden soft brush of Samson’s lips against his wasn’t it. He blinked at him as he pulled away again, cheeks pink.

 

“That’s why.” Samson said; face breaking into a small smirk. “Even though I’m not your boyfriend.”

 

“Shut up and come here.” Cullen pulled the other man close with a sigh, trying to block out the day with a bit of human contact. But it wasn’t just any human. It was Samson. Who’d kept him safe, shown him how to use a gun, who’d chosen to save him. They were doing just fine on their own.

 

**V.**

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Samson’s voice snapped Cullen out of his daze, head leaning against the car window staring as the trees passed. You could almost pretend that they were back in the old world, if it wasn’t for the blood on his clothes.

 

“I’ve never killed someone before.” Cullen answered after a long silence, not pulling his eyes away from the window. “I mean, I’ve killed people who were already dead, but I don’t think that counts. Today... today was the first...”

 

“Don’t. Don’t feel guilty.” Samson said firmly, glancing over from the driver’s seat. “He didn’t leave you a choice. He was going to kill you. They all were. They got what they deserved.”

 

It had been one hell of a day. A hunt for a car that still had gas should have been relatively simple, but they’d run into a small group of the Promisers, or whatever they were calling themselves now. It had resulted in Cullen face down on the concrete, and he was sure whatever was going to happen wouldn’t have been good. He didn’t have to find out.

 

“You saved my life again.” He finally pulled his gaze from the window to look at Samson instead. “Why’d you do it? They’d probably have let you go.”

 

“Are you really asking me this again?” Samson sounded half amused half frustrated. “I did it because we’re in this together. Because I wasn’t going to let them...” He made a disgusted noise, and Cullen flinched a little.

 

Cullen glanced down, catching sight of the red staining Samson’s jeans. “You’re hurt.” He said, frowning.

 

“Hm? Oh that. Bastard caught me with his knife. I’ll be fine. We’ll find somewhere to stop and I’ll wrap it up.” Samson always sounded so calm and casual about his injuries when _he_ got them. If it had been Cullen who was bleeding over their newly acquired car he was fairly sure the man would have already stopped to check on him. He tried not to think too much into what that meant.

 

They drove in silence for another hour, finding a small house up a long driveway. It looked deserted, which and there was nothing to be seen in the surrounding area. Cullen wished he could pretend the world was as it was, but first they had work to do. They’d become so used to this. Find a house, check every room together, find the attic, close the attic door behind them, spend the night curled up and eating whatever they’d been able to salvage that day. Day by day. It wasn’t quite living, but it was surviving.

 

“All clear. Now will you please look at that damned leg?” Cullen pulled the attic door shut behind them and dug a light out of his bag so he could look at it. Samson rolled his eyes at the fuss, but he let Cullen peel his jeans off him slowly so he could get a better look.

 

“If you wanted me out of my trousers so badly you only had to ask.” He said with a grin, though Cullen only glared at him as he checked it over. It wasn’t a bad wound, and wasn’t causing Samson much bother. A bandage and he’d be fine, as long as it didn’t get infected.

 

Cullen didn’t lean back as he turned off the light, staying close enough to Samson that he could hear his breathing. Their relationship had been tentative; a few kisses here and there, Samson would hold Cullen a little closer at night and Cullen would brush his fingers over Samson’s whenever he got the chance. But right now, knowing that there was not a threat for miles, he felt a familiar rush of _want._

 

“You sure?” Samson was too good at reading his mind, and Cullen’s stomach clenched. “After today I thought...”

 

“Fuck today.” Cullen paused, and snorted at his own use of words. “I want you. I need... I need to.” He pressed a gentle but demanding kiss to Samson’s lips. “Please?”

 

That did it. For a man who’d been stabbed in the leg Samson moved fast, pinning Cullen underneath him and kissing him fiercely. It was possessive, the way Samson held him down and sucked a bruise into his neck, and Cullen groaned with how much he’d wanted it.

 

They didn’t say anything else, they stripped only as much as they had too, Cullen’s boots, trousers, and boxers ending up in a pile somewhere as Samson pushed his shirt up as far as it could go without pulling it off so he could bite and kiss at the skin there.

 

It was rough, eased only with spit-slick fingers and a few murmured words of encouragement from Samson, and it hurt, but Cullen clung to Samson’s shoulders and forced himself to relax and really it was just what he needed. They’d needed release, something to make them forget about how shitty the rest of the world was, but with that roughness that meant they would feel it. Cullen wanted to feel it.

 

They scratched and bit and moaned, kicking up dust that Cullen was sure they’d be coughing up for days, and they came hard and long while clinging to each other hard enough to leave bruises.

 

Neither of them said anything for a while, Samson pulled back to clean himself off with his torn and bloodstained jeans, while Cullen carefully pulled off his t shirt to do the same. “Good thing we have spares eh?” Samson suddenly spoke, and Cullen laughed. Christ, when was the last time he’d laughed?

 

They set up their bed, still mostly undressed. Cullen held onto one of Samson’s hands while the other trailed over his skin, running over the scratches Samson had just left there. “I’d have killed so many more of them if I’d had to.” He murmured, making Cullen look up at him in the dark. Samson rarely sounded so... contemplative. “I’d kill anyone who tried to hurt you.”

 

“Sam...” Cullen squeezed his hand, and he was sure he saw Samson smile.

 

“Do you still have that map? The one that crazy woman gave you?” Cullen nodded his affirmation, and Samson curled into his side tighter. “Good. Because I think we should go. To that safe zone I mean.”

 

“Really?” Cullen wanted to turn around and look at Samson’s face, but the man was holding him tightly, his face pressed against his back. He had a feeling he didn’t want him to look at him right now.

 

“Yeah. Really. It’s gotta be worth a chance right?”

 

Cullen smiled, kissing Samson’s grazed knuckles. “Yeah. It’s got to be.”

 

**VI.**

 

“I can’t believe we didn’t get more gas.” Cullen sighs once again, though Samson only chuckles at him when before he would have huffed. It was amazing what a month or so of spending every waking minute with someone could do.

 

“Come on, the fresh air is good for you.”

 

“Was that a joke Sammy? From you?” Cullen raises an eyebrow and nudges him with his shoulder. “And it’s only fresh air until we walk past another rotting corpse, which I could definitely do without too many more of.”

 

“We’re about two days away from the Safe Zone. If it even exists.” Samson never neglected to add that onto the end.

 

“You’re a damned pessimist Sam.” Cullen snorted.

 

“It’s important though.” Samson suddenly looked serious, slowing down to make Cullen stop and look at him. “What happens if we get there and it’s gone? Or overrun? Or is something worse than just the dead?”

 

Cullen frowned as he turned. He hadn’t thought about it. “I... I don’t know.”

 

“I know how much you need this. How much you need this to be real.” Samson lifted a hand to Cullen’s face, thumb rubbing at the thick stubble. “If we get there, and it’s not what you wanted... just... don’t lose hope alright?”

 

Cullen’s expression softened, and he leaned forward for a quick kiss right there in the middle of the road. “I won’t. I’ve got you haven’t I?”

 

Samson seemed satisfied with that, and he smiled as they started walking again. “You’re not the same as you were back then. You walk differently. Talk differently.”

 

“I am different.” Cullen said after a moment of consideration. “You have to be out here.”

 

“Am I different then?” Samson looked amused, as if this was a casual conversation about the weather or what they were going to eat tonight.

 

“Yeah. You’re still a ruthless prick, but now there’s a reason. But actually you care more than I’ve ever seen you care. Like... there’s more to fight for now.” Cullen shrugged. “For what it’s worth I’m glad you ended up at my front door.”

 

Samson laughed at that. “It wasn’t a coincidence you know. I came to get you. When all this hit the fan.”

 

“Why?” They hadn’t been anything before this. Some flirting, a date that Samson didn’t show up to because he’d been too off his face, an angry phone conversation. But when the dead started walking Samson had come straight to his place with a stolen car and weapons he shouldn’t have even owned in the first place.

 

“Because it would have been a damn shame to lose an arse like that to a hoard of dead people.” Samson grinned, breaking out into a laugh as Cullen swatted at him. “And before you ask again, I dunno why. You’re just the first person I thought of. Take that for whatever you want.”

 

Cullen smiled. “I will.”

 

“Now get that smirk off your face, there’s a group of dead up ahead.” Samson pulled out his gun. “Gonna be a fun couple of days eh? Better hope it’s worth it.”

 

“It will be.” Was all Cullen said, too busy focusing on what they had to do to survive out here.

 

**VII.**

 

“Fuck. Looks like rain.” Cullen looked up at the sky anxiously. Rain was a pain in the arse out here. It was too loud, decreased visibility, made it easier to make a mistake. They were still a good ten miles away from the next town, and now they couldn’t see much of anything with the trees either side of the road.

 

“Let’s stay on the road for now. We’ll change direction if we have to.” Samson was frowning, one hand on his holstered gun. He was worried, Cullen could tell. Samson didn’t like being out in the open like this even when it was dry and they could see for miles. They were exhausted and hadn’t eaten nearly enough for the amount they were walking, and they were still about a day from their destination. It wasn’t a good mix.

 

Within ten minutes they were both soaked through, the rain coming down hard. The forest was dark and Cullen could barely see more than a few yards ahead of them. It was making him nervous, and he could tell Samson felt the same.

 

“Shit.”

 

Samson saw them first, a big group of shambling corpses coming right at them from their front and their left hand side. The hoards were getting larger, and this was nothing like the one they’d seen once while hiding in an attic, but the sight of them was enough to make Cullen’s hands shake. How many bullets did they have? Not enough, he was sure of it.

 

Still, it didn’t stop Samson, shooting one right between the eyes. He was always good at that. Cullen wasn’t, and had to aim for legs, something to stop them moving so he could finish them off with a bit more space to breathe. He didn’t think he’d get much of a chance for that today.

 

“Keep moving!” Samson called to him, and Cullen tried to stay close. If they had the energy to run perhaps they could have simply outrun them, but if they tried that now they’d lose their breath and that would be it. Better to walk faster for longer and hope the adrenaline kicked in at the right moment.

 

Another few shots, to the ones closest to them. Samson is further ahead, because Cullen always checked to make sure nothing can grab at his ankles since his run-in at the farmhouse. He had the scar as a testament to that mistake.

 

As he turned from dealing the monsters at their back he saw Samson. What happened next happened fast, but Cullen would see it in slow motion for the rest of his life. Samson running out of bullets, reaching for his knife instead, pushing it deep into the skull of something that used to be a person. Then teeth sinking into his outstretched arm. A scream. Blood. By then Cullen was there, he kicked the creature off Samson and used his own knife, leaving the other man clutching at his arm.

 

Cullen finished off the last remaining stragglers, saving precious bullets before he spun around to face Samson, eyes wide and breaths ragged. “Let me see.”

 

“Cullen...” Samson tried to turn away but Cullen wasn’t having it.

 

“Let me see!” Cullen forced Samson’s hand away, his heart freezing in his chest when he saw the bite, deep and bleeding profusely. “What do I do Sammy?”

 

“Cullen...”

 

“What do I do!?” Panic gripped him as Cullen pulled a bandage out of his bag, wrapping it tight around the wound to stop the bleeding. “Sam, we need to amputate it. That’s the only way right?”

 

Samson looked grave, but calm. As always. “Cullen if you cut my arm off here I’ll just die faster.” Samson shook his head. “Out in the middle of the road with no way to stop the bleeding? I’d be dead in the hour.”

 

“There has to be something we can do! I can’t just...” Cullen was suddenly grateful for the rain as his eyes swam. He couldn’t fall apart now, not when they still were so exposed.

 

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.” Samson said, voice steady. “We’re going to get to the nearest town, which is about an hour away. We’re going to find somewhere to rest for a bit. Then we’re going to get you to that Safe Zone.”

 

“But Sam...” Cullen bit his lip. What else could they do? There was no cure. Samson had maybe a day, two if they were lucky. Then he’d be gone. Just like so many other people Cullen had known. His sister Mia, his neighbours. What was done was done now. In just a second everything had changed.

 

“I know. Sucks right?” Samson chuckled drily. “Come on. I’m sick of looking at all these corpses, and my arm hurts like a bitch. If you see a liquor store let me know, I really need a drink.”

 

Cullen could only nod, words failing him. How could this have happened? They’d been so good, so careful. How had they fucked up so badly when they were so close to the end? It hurt. It hurt so badly.

 

“At least the rain’s stopped.” Samson commented lightly, but his voice wavered and he looked away. Cullen knew better than to watch the man cry. Instead he put his hand on Samson’s shoulder, and they started to trudge wordlessly towards the town.

 

**VIII.**

 

“Come on Sammy, you have to eat something.”

 

“Why? It’s just a waste.”

 

Cullen sighed. They’d found a warehouse with an upper level they could rest in, and they’d even managed to dry off their clothes. Samson now had a thick white bandage on his arm, covering up the ticking time bomb.

 

“Please Sam; you can’t make the walk without something to eat.” Cullen knew what the stages of the sickness were. He’d get tired, feverish, then eventually he’d pass out and that would be it. Until he came back. But Cullen would have to die too before he let that happen to Samson.

 

Samson glared, but he took the can and spoon Cullen was offering him. “’Tastes like shit.” He muttered as he stared the packaging. Cullen laughed, but it was a short laugh before he resumed biting his nails and staring at the map on his knee.

 

“’Best served hot’. Well fucking duh. It’s not going to say ‘Best served cold’ is it?” Samson snorted. You should put that on my tombstone. Not that I’ll be getting one of those I think.”

 

“Sammy... don’t.” Cullen didn’t think he could stand it. He kept looking at the bandage, knowing what was coming next. He kept replaying the scene over and over in his head. What was the point of any of this if Samson wasn’t going to make it with him?

 

“We should get moving.” Samson interrupted his thoughts, setting the now empty can aside. Cullen leaned forward before he really knew what he was doing and kissed Samson hard, pulling away after a few moments and shouldering his bag.

 

“Yeah let’s go.”

 

They walked in silence, the sky grey but thankfully clear, no sign of anything save a couple of figures too deep in the trees to be able to get to them before they’d be gone. It was as if that moment had never happened.

 

“You know what pisses me off the most?” Samson broke the silence. “I won’t get to know how this ends. Like, will there be a cure? Will they all die off because there’s no food? Will we all just become immune and end up living in fortresses and creating a new civilisation? What happens next? I wanted to see it.”

 

Cullen didn’t think he’d ever heard Samson talk so much. He was talking to fill the silence, or to deafen whatever conversations were happening in his own head. It made Cullen want to cry. “I dunno, they’ll probably just fuck it up again anyhow.”

 

“You sound like me.” Samson laughed, but when Cullen glanced at him he could see the beads of sweat on his forehead, see how pale he’d become in just a couple of hours. It was happening.

 

But Cullen couldn’t be selfish. He had to keep Samson going, and that meant swallowing his own sadness and chatting about silly things, theories on where the world would head now, things they missed about the old world, they even played a short lived game of ‘I spy’ before Cullen had called it ridiculous. He’d never seen Samson so animated, and he was sure it was for his benefit. The man didn’t want him worried or upset, so he was sticking a smile on his face for the first time in years just for him. It just made Cullen want to cry more. How was he supposed to do this without him?

 

The conversation began to dry up as Samson started to feel breathless, weak. Cullen had to slip an arm around his middle to help keep him upright and walking, only pulling away if one of the figures in the woods got too close.

 

“Remember that time I stood you up?” Samson piped up, his breaths wheezy in Cullen’s ear.

 

“Really? That’s what you want to talk about now?” Cullen raised an eyebrow disapprovingly, but shifted Samson’s weight a little so the man was being held a little tighter.

 

“I didn’t mean to. Well... I did. But I wanted to see you. I just... I thought you were too good for me.” Samson huffed out a laugh. “I was never any use to anyone before. Not until this shitstorm happened. Then I was useful, I could do something. I could keep you safe if nothing else.”

 

“Sam...”

 

“Funny how the world had to end before I could be happy.” That made Cullen fall silent.

 

A few more hours and they were almost there, Samson barely able to put one foot in front of the other, Cullen exhausted but determined. The sun had disappeared behind the trees an hour ago, but their eyes had adjusted to the dark better than they’d expected. When the gates of military base appeared in the distance, Cullen breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Look Sammy we’re almost there.” He said, trying to sound bright and cheerful even as he felt Samson shudder violently again. The fever had hit a while ago, and Samson was mumbling things incoherently, Cullen had given up trying to hear them.So close. They were so close. Every step brought the metal gates closer into view. They approached them carefully.

 

The base was dark, no sign of life, though the walls were too high for Cullen to see. He carefully put Samson down against a tree, before stepping up to the gates. He banged on the metal, an obnoxiously loud noise in the near silence. “Hello?” He called, painfully aware that if there truly was nothing there then they would have to move quickly.

 

But Samson was in no state to go any further, and as Cullen abandoned the door in frustration he knelt beside the other man and gently cupped his face.

 

“What’s happening?” Samson asked, shaking and breathless.

 

Cullen hesitated for only a moment before lying. “It’s fine, everything’s fine. If you just hold on a little longer Sam...”

 

“Nah. Not me. But good for you.” Samson shook his head the best he could, laughing a little under his breath. “...would have been a damn shame to lose an arse like that to a hoard of dead people right?”

 

Cullen laughed at the memory even as he felt his chest tighten. “Right... Sammy...”

 

But Samson wasn’t really listening any more, his eyes glassy. “’Best served cold’. Put it on my tombstone. Not gonna turn into one of those.”

 

Cullen bit his lip so hard he could taste blood in his mouth.

 

“Funny how the world had to end before I could be happy.” And that was it. Samson finally fell silent, his stare fixed as his chest stopped moving. Cullen finally let a choked sob escape him, just one.

 

He knew he shouldn’t, that it would be a waste of a bullet, that he should just walk away from this place now and not look back. But he would have to die before he let Samson turn, and right now he knew he didn’t have the strength for the knife.

 

A click and a bang and that was it. It was done.

 

Until a suddenly bright light was shone right at him from the top of the guard tower. Cullen blinked and raised an arm to protect his eyes. There was a woman up there, pointing a sniper at him.

 

“Whoever you are darling you might want to identify yourself and explain why you’re firing guns outside our walls, before I put you down.” She called out; voice cold and authoritative and Cullen tried to remember how to speak.

 

“I’m Cullen. My friend... he was bitten. I had to...” He couldn’t finish the sentence, blinking back tears. There were people there. It hadn’t been a lie. He regained a bit of himself. “I’m not bitten. I’m alone... I had a map.”

 

There was a pause, then a buzzer sounded and the gate began to open. “Well then darling, if you’re alone you’d better come in hadn’t you? Quickly, before the dead you’ve drawn over catch on. And will someone be a dear and help him with his friend?” The gates opened, and two men in uniforms ran out, past Cullen, to Samson. Cullen could only watch dumbfounded as they carried him past and into the base.

 

“We bury our dead.” A man explained. “It’s our way of holding onto a bit of ourselves.”

 

Cullen could only nod dumbly, overwhelmed by everything as he followed them through the gates. It didn’t feel real. How could it be real?

 

The man smiled warmly at him. “I’m Dorian. Welcome to the Safe Zone.”


End file.
